A Sorta Fairytale
by Verda Napoli
Summary: *rewrite*Jax Teller and Lena Janowitz are two single parents who struggle to walk the tight rope between the loyalty they have for the family they grew up in and the lives they are building. With everything around them falling apart, they fall together. But as internal and external threats test their new relationship, they learn happily ever after is not guaranteed.
1. Drive

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do not own any songs, books, poems, or movies mentioned here in. **

**Warning: Canon character death, swearing, violence, alcohol/drug use, excessive swearing…I'm writing about an MC, not a high school lacrosse team. **

**Author's Note: I'm baaccck. I labeled this a revamp, but it kinda, sorta isn't. I'm taking my OC (Lena) on a much different journey than the one I had planned because, quite frankly, I'm sick of the whole cookie cutter "girl grows up in SOA, snags Son, gets pregnant then kidnapped, etc." story and wasn't invested in writing one. Besides, the only teenager I like writing is my Avery and that's because she's so effed up. But I digress. This story is obviously Jax/OC with Season 4 and 5 elements, but mostly AU. It's focused on personal relationships (Not just romance, but club, family, and community) so anyone looking for some big club business story is reading the wrong one. Okay, let me just shut up and get to it. **

Far separated from the main roads of Charming, up and around the bend of a neck breaking hill and nestled in the very nucleus of Crow's Corner sat a cozy, somewhat old ranch style house. Fairly non-descript in structure, the three bedroom house boasted a lot of exterior customization. A blah tan/chocolate brown combo was replaced by a slate blue paint job. The black shutters, garage door and wrought iron railings and lanterns complimented the grayish blue home and the paver front walkway and steps. Matching wood beams lined the walkway and contrasts the flowing pewter gray and moonshine stone rock gardens.

Like the rock garden, the yard was designed by landscaper/lawn artist extraordinaire Jesus Noelle to add some light to the somewhat dark looking house. Weekly clipped boxwood shrubs surrounded the house. Periwinkles and orange sherbet begonias in various sized painted pewter pots sat on the paver stairs, giving the yard a bright color scheme. Apricot twist sunflowers stretched to their maximum height of six foot were strategically placed away from the windows so not to irritate the allergies of the owner of the house.

Clara Lenette Janowitz to the government, Lena to the her family and friends; a hometown girl, a local business owner, the first daughter of the Sons of Anarchy to many townspeople but within the confines of her home, she's just "Mommy".

Inside, Lena found herself fully engaged in the routine she usually completed much earlier in the evening. While her surrogate uncle put her six year old daughter to bed, she boxed up the leftovers of the pinterest inspired meal she whipped up for dinner. Dishes in the dishwasher, cooking materials soaked, washed, rinsed and dried before being placed on the overhang above the island. She wiped her hands before cranking up the music on her iPhone just a smidge before she started wiping down the counters. Like cleaning, music had always helped her unwind and organize her thoughts.

Both her kitchen clean up and Brandon Boyd's soulful voice and insightful feelings on "whatever tomorrow brings" were interrupted by an incoming call. Tempted to hit the red button, the caller id told her that she couldn't "decline" the call.

**~(&)~**

Wayne Unser leaned against the side panel of the doorway that led to the well-lit kitchen. With a feeling of nostalgia that stayed with him often these days, he watched his daughter's best friend scrub the granite countertops with one hand while holding her phone in the other. Her long, dark blonde hair was gathered on top of her head in a messy knot, the makeup scrubbed away from her heart shaped face. She had traded her black slacks, sleeveless ivory silk black polka dotted button up shirt, and black flats with white toes and soles for a pair of grey lounge pants, a bright pink thermal and lime green and pink fuzzy socks. She looked more like a young mother taking care of her home than the poised business woman she was hours before.

Despite her being both of those now, he could remember the gap toothed, tow headed little girl running around after her mother in the offices of the business the grown version of her now owned. He wasn't the least bit surprised. Even in what should've been her most rebellious years, she had always been exceptionally balanced. Lena was his younger daughter's best friend and the more logical half of the teenage version of Lucy and Ethel.

"Oh? Of course. I can't believe you'd even ask me that. What? You know I could give a shit. You're _always_ welcome here."

Her current conversation ripped him out of his nostalgia and placed him right smack dab in the middle of the very scary present. Lena, regardless of the heaping helping of commonsense she inherited from both of her parents, had one very large blind spot. After darkness came to light, Clay Morrow was exposed for what he had become, or perhaps what he'd been all along; selfish, evil, and as cancerous as the disease that was eating Wayne's body alive. All the people around the former President saw it; his wife, his stepson, even his prized guard dog.

But Lena refused to see Clay for the monster he truly was. Wayne could understand her loyalty. Clay took her in after her mother died. Raised her. Looked out for her through her teenage years and even in the early days of her being back in Charming. Like Gemma, she was the recipient of his rare soft side and unlike Gemma, none of his abuse. Unser had never seen the shrewd Nam vet give anyone anything for free, but he helped Lena not because he expected something but because he wanted the best for her. The way he loved his brother's daughter was reminiscent of the way he had loved Jax long before their Reaper related power struggle begin. Because Lena never wore a patch and never challenged him a la Gemma, he could continue to love her without hurting her too.

For now. With Clay's wounded animal complex growing and his influence over the club and the town dwindling down to none, he would find other avenues to control. Being that she was neither blind nor stupid, Lena would eventually realize the magnitude of Clay's mistakes. _Mea culpa _not being his style, it wouldn't be long after before he turned on her too.

Wayne could only hope that her realization would come sooner rather than later.

**~(&)~**

After hanging up with Clay, Lena stored their lunch date in her phone. She made a mental note to bring him some leftovers. Juice had been running him back and forth to the doctors and also doing his errands, but he wasn't exactly a great cook. She didn't like the thought of the man who was the closest thing she had to a father eating takeout out of soggy Styrofoam containers.

Pulling herself out of her mental to-do lists she realized that Wayne was sitting at the kitchen table. A smile twitched at the corners of her lips. Her father's best friend also had a role in her upbringing. Albeit not as large as Clay's, the former police chief had been one of her go to family members. After his affiliations to SAMCRO caused him to lose his job, Lena began urging him to move into her recently remodeled in-law . As his cancer spread, her insistence became more persistent. Still, the prideful old man chose to live in a shitbox trailer. Since the most recent, and arguably the most tragic, death in their extended family he had been staying in the apartment above her garage.

"Everything okay?"

His question and the discerningly nervous look on his tired face made her wonder how much of her conversation he had overheard. He probably realized she had been talking to public enemy number one and if she opened the door, he'd let her know what he thought about the situation. She was so sick and tired of fighting with the people she loved about someone else she loved, of trying to explain her decisions, and reminding people that she was grown. So she left it alone, opting to take the conversation in a different direction. She had more important things to worry about anyway.

"Fine. Lala go down okay?" she questioned as she moved the black and white checked teapot to the front left burner of her stove and turned the switch to medium-high heat.

"She was full of energy when she laid down, but after a while she tired herself out" Wayne replied with a fond smile. "She was asleep before I turned her light off."

Lena shook her head as she removed two small plates and mugs from the cabinet. "I'm not really sure where her little head is at these days. She's not even six and she's already seen so much."

"Don't worry. She's a resilient kid, like her mama."

"People all around her are dying." Lena sliced the cake server through the buttercream smother red velvet cake with more force than necessary. "Piney, who she adores as if he's her own grandfather, just up and disappears. Not long after, two guys she's known since she was small are gone. Clay's in the hospital and now Tara…"

She let her words drop off as the tea kettle let out a whistle. She tried to shake off her woes as she poured and fixed their nightly cups of decaf tea and plated their thick slices of cake. She picked up the tray, carrying it to the old black and dark maple Hitchcock table.

"Just hold her close, sweetheart" Wayne said as he accepted his slice.

Over tea and cake, the pair began to discuss the goings on of the family neither of them had a choice in being a part of.

**~(&)~**

With a sigh that seemed heavier than the woman herself, Lena drained the remainder of her tea cup before placing it in front of her.

"I'm well aware of the fact that when it rains it pours around here, but it doesn't make the fact suck less" she commented, a thoughtful look coming across her face. "When I got the call about Clay being in the hospital, my heart stopped. It brought back the memories of my mother."

Wayne checked her eyes-they were dry-and resisted the urge to reach out for her hand to comfort her. The tightly sealed lid she kept on her emotions was definitely a product of growing up with Clay's influence.

"I know I'm an adult and he's not even my parent, but he's been more of a father than my own." she continued, her voice tightening.

He noted quickly that there was no malice in her voice. He was in constant awe of how well adjusted the 30 year old was and had always been. Father locked up from the time she was six, her mother dying of cancer when she was fourteen, raised by one percent bikers…she should've been a mess. But resilient little Lena was stronger than just about everyone gave her credit for; she kept her head on straight, got an education and made a life for herself and later on, her daughter.

"Far be it from me to downplay my own accomplishments," a wry smile broke out. "But this life I've built for Lala and myself, I couldn't have built without Clay's help."

_And he won't forget that,_ Wayne thought sarcastically. _I'm sure he'll remind you someday sooner than you think. _

"Only the good die young, darlin."

"Ugh! You too! Please don't give me the 'Clay is the devil speech'" she groaned before letting a bit of warning seep into her tone. "I've heard it, I've processed it, and I understand why you feel that way. I just happen to not be drinking that particular flavor of Kool aid."

The last thing he wanted to do was argue with the girl about someone she obviously loved and was protective of, but he wouldn't feel right not warning her.

"All I'm saying, Lena, is be careful. I won't go into reasons, but if you do need one just look at poor Gemma's face."

"Poor Gemma?" She was immediately incredulous, hands flying into the air in an "oh please" motion. "No disrespect to you, I know that's your friend, but she's ten times worse than anybody, Clay included." She lowered her voice, her deep set chocolate eyes darkening. "At least Clay comes right out and does his dirt…"

_Oh sweetheart, if you only knew how untrue that is_, he held back.

"Gemma sneaks and manipulates. She's pinches and pinches" she held her thumb and pointer finger together and made a twisting moment to orchestrate her point. "And when you pinch back, she runs back to whoever's strings she's pulling at the moment and plays the victim. She has no love for anybody that doesn't benefit her or further her status. She's a textbook narcissist and the sooner you realize that, Wayne, the better off you'll be."

Unser released a sigh of his own. He was too exhausted and sick to defend Gemma's actions. Truth be told, he didn't feel a defense was warranted. She was all of those things that Lena accused her of being and probably a lot more, but he still loved her. Like so many men living and dead, he didn't have a choice.

"Regardless of who did what to who, just take heed to what I said. There is no one on this earth, short of himself, that Clay loves more than Gemma." He thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully despite his anger towards Clay. "No man should ever, ever put his hands on a woman and he not only smacked her around, but beat her like she stole something from him."

**~(&)~**

As an educated woman, a single mother, and a business owner to boot, Lena definitely could be described as a modern day, independent woman. But whenever controversial "women's issues" were brought up she was immediately reminded of her upbringing in the misogynistic world of bikers. One of her mother's favorite phrases was, "The beauty of knowing your place is knowing that you have one." And in the tight knit, male dominated community she came from a woman's place was wherever her man told her to be. Old Ladies were not patched members, but they still had a strict code of rules to follow and there were consequences for breaking those rules. Usually, said consequences were physical.

Growing up around the mother charter, she hadn't really been exposed to much domestic violence. Even in their most heated bouts, Bobby never hit Precious. In all her years of living with Gemma and Clay, none of their disputes moved past a smack or a scratch. Opie wouldn't dare mistreat Donna. As far as she knew, Jax never laid a hand on Tara or even cranked up Wendy. During the time she spent around the Rogue River charter, she realized she had been sheltered. The Rogue River charter was not a political or community based one like Redwood, but a more traditional one percent 'live free off the grid' charter. The Oregon charter was much more roughneck than the Charming charter and thus, a lot more 'hands on' with their women and not in a more attentive or sexual way.

It took her a good five months, but Lena soon got used to sweetbutts and old ladies alike sporting black eyes, bruises, and busted lips and noses. She quickly developed a "not my man, not my business" attitude before setting a boundary of her own.

"Look. If Clay, or any man, decides to beat me down like that so be it" she recalled words she had spoken eleven years earlier to a man who's breathtaking face she pushed out of her head. ". I can take an asswhooping. Cause whether or not I deserve it, he better kill me I'm coming back double barreled, as in a shotgun."

Wayne smiled. "I'd laugh, but I have a feeling you're dead serious."

"Literally. Besides" she patted his hand. "It's not like I have a shortage of people to call if I need to hide a body."

"That's true" he agreed, pushing his plate away. "And speaking of number one candidates for that job, how's Ope?"

**~(&)~**

"He's alright. Not terrible, but not great either." She shook her head the fire in her eyes replaced by sadness. "He won't say it but he feels responsible for Piney's death, very much like he did with Donna's. But this time he isn't running this time. He's refocusing his energy on reconnecting with his kids."

This time Wayne felt comfortable enough to speak his thoughts. "And I'm sure you had everything to do with that."

As if unaffected by the praise, she gathered their plates, cups and silverware onto the handled tray. "It's not my doing, but I did give him an oh-so-gentle shove in that direction."

"Guilt trip?"

She snorted in mock disgust as she stood. "I'm not Gemma, Wayne. I simply told him that he should be the man his kids need him to be. A man who doesn't spend time with his family isn't a real man."

"Pulling out the big guns?" Wayne enquired, knowing the girl's love for the Godfather series.

Lena placed the dishes in the sink, turning on the water and shrugging. "Whatever works. Now that the cum catcher is no longer a buffer he really needs to show those kids who he is: a loyal man who loves them more than he loves himself."

"Cum catcher?" Wayne was shocked to hear Lena refer to Mrs. Winston number two as such. Despite having a strong bond with Donna Winston, Lena was quick to go against Gemma and Tara and accept Lyla. She wrote it off as being what was best for Opie, Kenny and Ellie but it was obvious to everyone that Lena wasn't one to put up a front. She genuinely liked Lyla and truly folded the sweet porn star into her family. "I thought she was your friend."

"She was." The blonde's pretty face immediately went on lockdown, her soapy hands clenching. "And that's what makes this whole situation fucked up. I accepted her. I defended her, went to war with Tara on her behalf in the beginning." Her eyes blackened, her voice once again tightening. "I trusted her with those kids. Hell, my own kid. My daughter called her 'Aunt Lyla'. As far as I was concerned, she was a member of _my _family. And as soon as the shit hit the fan, she went running, no explanation to Opie or the kids…"

Noticing her redden more with every word, Wayne decided to try to cut her rage off at the pass. "Maybe it's for the best. Opie's got no choice but to take care of his own kids and they really do need him the most."

"But that's not the point" she hissed, her tone venomous. "She used me, she used Opie. When SAMCRO took over CaraCara and she saw how vulnerable Opie was, she used him as means for upward mobility. He was her hero, her protector, her ticket _in_. She preyed on him like the goddamn parasite she is, along with the rest of her paid croweater friends, and I should've known. I should've talked to Opie, convinced him to boot her to the curb the moment he…"

"Sweetheart" he cut her off gently, knowing what a sensitive subject SAMCRO's ownership of a porn studio was to the daughter of Lenny "The Pimp". "Opie is a grown man, like you said. His choices, his mistakes do not rest on your shoulders. Take advice from an old man."

"Lay it on me, old man."

"Live and let live, honey" he instructed watching her posture soften as she rinsed and dried her hands. "Don't take on other people's problems as your own. As you know, life is gonna give you enough of your own."

"You're right." She put one hand on her hip and rested another knuckles first on her forehead. "I think I had Jax fever for a moment."

Confused, he scrunched up his face. "What?"

"Taking on other people's problems as my own, like Jax" she explained. "Although I shouldn't speak ill of him. He's going through enough."

Wayne nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Poor Jax."

"I should call him." She reached back for her phone. "See if he needs anything."

**~(&)~**

The quiet sound of his sons' calm breathing did little to soothe Jax. He would've much preferred the wind running over his body and the vibration of his Dyna's pipes as he flew down the open road to the stillness of sitting on the unfamiliar black leather coach. Either that or being wrapped up in the thick, soft, sweat stained sheets with his beautiful Old Lady, the only woman he'd ever wanted since the moment he met her all those years ago. The one he spent years longing for, her face haunting him like a dream. The life he led sure as shit wasn't a fairytale, but his dreams did come true when she returned to him fixing Abel's heart and reclaiming his own in the process.

The days following his release from Stockton had been the happiest of his life. Club business was taking up a hefty chunk of his time, but at least when he returned home he got to be with his boys and Tara. He'd often find Tara awake, waiting for him. She listened to all his hopes and fears, let him bury his days-and himself-inside of her. She was always his solace from all the blood and violence, the little bit of light to balance out the dark nature of his days. She made him a better man simply by being in his life.

But that ended with a bullet.

A metallic hollow point bullet, probably Wawhewa manufactured, from the gun he suggested she carry, went straight through her brain. Her blood made an abstract painting on the freshly painted walls and a large pool on the carpet. Tara's body was slumped over the arm of the very couch he usually found her waiting on when he came home at night. He felt an absurd need to cover her with her favorite afghan before everything faded to black. He woke up in the bedroom of his dorm, his boys nowhere to be found and his mother sitting by his bedside.

Two weeks later, the house had been cleaned, couch removed and walls painted. His mother had worked her remodeling magic in a vain hope that he might be able to move on in the house where his love had taken her own life. For the intelligent woman she was, he couldn't understand how Gemma could be so stupid. How was he supposed to carry on when everything still had Tara's mark on it? The subtle floral scent she wore surrounded him, wrapping him up so tight he could swear he was being choked. Her movements, her mannerisms ingrained in the boys constantly reminded him of her. There were some long, sleepless nights that he would swear he would see her sipping coffee, lying next to him, or leaning over looking at Thomas' crib.

Those hallucinations were enough to drive him crazy. Between those and the letters she had left in three neat stacks, he was well on his way to heading back down the path he traveled down just after Cameron Hayes had taken Abel. It would be so easy to get lost in the booze, bud, and porn pussy. But letting that haze overtake him would mean neglecting his most important duties. He wouldn't do that, he couldn't do that. He had to be strong and present for his boys. He couldn't bleed all over them; that would make him no better than his father.

When he wasn't hallucinating he came to the conclusion that keeping the boys in the only house they'd known since birth was best for their adjustment. But the place still felt like a coffin. There were nights, so much like this one, where he swore he could feel the walls close in on him and a dark haze coming over all three of them.

Knowing that he couldn't succumb to his anxiety or go for a ride on his bike, he decided on doing the next best thing. He bundled up the boys and strapped them into their seats in the backseat of the Dodge.

He was barely two blocks away from his house when the boys fell asleep. He realized that he should've thought this out better. Where was he going? How would he get them out of the truck without jostling them? Abel had inherited the less obvious Teller family flaw of being a light sleeper and once he was awake, he was awake. The poor little guy would be so tired, he'd probably want to sleep all day and then his schedule would be off…

In an attempt to clear his distract himself, he turned on the radio, setting it at a low volume. He was pleasantly surprised by the playlist on the alternative radio station. That is, until the Incubus lyrics began speaking to him.

"_Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear. And I can't help but ask myself how often I let the fear take the wheel and steer." _

In what felt like years ago, but in reality was mere months, he told Tara that the Sons were no longer a brotherhood. Fear motivated them. Fear of losing ground after being locked up for over a year. Fear of another Zobelle situation. Fear of being broke and not being able to care for their families. For their leader, fear of the unknown, a life without the gavel. Fear fed their need for business. Bigger gun business, getting in bed with Galindo and accepting a war with Lobo Senora-all over money. Greed was the driving force behind everything they did and it was running all of them over in the process. But still, they kept moving on with Clay at the helm, like horses with no regard for the damage that they were doing to themselves.

"_It's driven me before and it seems to have a haunting mass appeal. But lately I'm beginning to find that I should be the one behind the wheel." _

President. The patch he wanted since he'd seen it on his father's cut was now his. He spent his whole life dreaming of the moment when he'd sew it onto his cut, but his dream was more like a nightmare. One he couldn't control, one he couldn't wake himself up from. With so many bodies scattered about and the club in shambles, his promotion was more of curse than an honor. There were days that he could feel the weight of said patch crushing his already flawed heart.

"_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there. I'll be there with open arms and open eyes." _

The first time Tara left him, he swore she ripped his heart out and took it with her. He was often found himself breathless and on his knees. He was on a rampage, nearly pulling his brothers down into the black abyss with him. In his rare moments of sobriety, the tears and fear in Gemma's cinnamon colored eyes registered. That's what pulled him back from that dark place-his mother and his brothers.

But now, in the wake of her permanent leave, he had two much more important people to worry about. No matter what was going on with the club, he had to concentrate on his boys. As far as he was concerned, he was the only parent either one of them had left. He knew that being their constant was of the utmost importance.

While being a father was the single handedly most rewarding experience of his thirty three year old life, Jax felt like a fish out of water. With his mother in and out of the picture working her own shit out, most nights he was pretty much left to fend for himself. With Tara gone, St. Thomas daycare was no longer available to the boys during the day. Elyda had resigned due to 'family issues' but Jax suspected that her 'issues' were more with his family than hers. He rehired Neeta, but she was only available limited hours due to having a steady gig at the daycare at Unser Trucking.

He felt helpless and despite being surrounded his 'brothers', he felt completely alone. The SAMCRO President had plenty of people he could turn to for club advice, but little when it came to parenting. Bobby had always been his Jimney Cricket, reminding him of his humanity and bringing his often straying mind to center. But when it came to personal matters, Bobby's own life was just as screwed up as his own. Thrice divorced, multiple kids he never saw, up to his ears in child support…he was in no position to give advice. Chibs wasn't much better. Jimmy O'Phelan was no longer standing between him and his family, but the Scot still didn't know how to reach out and rebuild relationships with Fiona and Kerrianne.

More often than not, Jax found himself wanting to seek the advice of one of the Winston men. He could already hear Piney's gruff voice in his head, advising him in a manner that would be equally sage and harsh. If the old man had been living, he would probably tell Jax to 'grow a dick' and be there for his family no matter what. When his inner Piney was quiet, he thought of Opie. Opie had always been his go-to guy, the one person who wasn't afraid to check him and offer his absolute loyalty. But Piney's death, as well as Jax's actions following it had left their lifelong friendship in a fragile place. Jax wanted to go to Opie, explain himself but he couldn't. Like he couldn't bleed all over his boys, he couldn't bleed all over Ope. His best friend was dealing with his own shit.

In a few very desperate moments, he had contemplated calling Lena, who was now the primary owner and head administrator of Unser Trucking, and asking if he could enroll the boys there during the day. But after the way he treated her when Clay was in the hospital, he had been too ashamed to call and ask her for a favor.

The ringing of his phone interrupted his scattered, incessant thoughts. Thinking more of the boys waking than who was on the other line, he answered without checking the caller id.

"Yeah?"

"Jax? It's Lena."

_Well if that isn't ironic_, he thought. _The one person I'm too embarrassed to call is calling me._

"Hi, Lena. What's up?" he asked alarm immediately setting in once the surprise wore off. "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine, Jax" she replied. "I just wanted to check in with you, see if there was anything you need."

He should've known. Like her mother, she was an eternal care taker. In addition to her own daughter, she kept a close watch on Ope and his kids, Clay, and even Piney when he was living. She was one of the most together people he knew; she seemed to gracefully juggle her business and being a single parent.

But she wasn't always that way. About six and a half years prior, she returned to Charming with a Master's degree in her hand and a baby in her stomach. At twenty four, she was vulnerable and unsure. She refused to talk about her child's father, stating nothing further than there was one and who he was was none of anyone's goddamn business. She leaned hard on people who had always been supportive of her. She re-rooted herself in Charming and focused on her family, finding solid ground in an impressive amount of time.

Suddenly, Jax was aware of where he needed to go.

**Please review. I accept all thoughts, positive and negative. Just please be respectful to myself and each other. Thanks in advance. **

**Oh and I just thought I'd mention this story is 85% written. Updates will be weekly, occasionally biweekly. **


	2. Better Man

**Thanks for your responses! You all are absolutely fabulous. **

**And I know I'm updating very quickly, but I'm teaching a med cert class this week and probably won't get 3 up until Sunday. (Maybe Saturday) Okay, enough rambling. Enjoy! And please review. **

"So?"

Still a little put off, Lena turned to address Wayne's one worded question. "He wasn't rude or nasty. Quite the opposite, but he hung up on me."

"Maybe one of the boys needed him."

"Maybe" she agreed with a shrug. "Whatever. I reached out. He knows where to find me if he needs me. Now onto more important topics."

"Ut oh." The former Charming chief feigned nervousness. "Such as?"

"Your permanent address" Lena replied, pointing in the direction of the in-law. "You know it breaks _my_ heart to see you living like you do, so I can only imagine what it's doing to Navy…"

He coughed a laugh. "And you say Gemma's manipulative!"

"Hey, I can't help it." She grinned triumphantly; she knew that playing the kid card would work in her favor. "I grew up around the woman, I was bound to pick up a few tricks. But that's not the point. You shouldn't be living how you're living. You should be in a nice, warm, clean environment around your family." _Now, go in the for the kill. _"Besides, Lala loves having you around all the time…"

"Let's take this living arrangement one day at a time" he countered, sounding very much a politician.

"Normally, I'd take that as you trying to pacify me, which rarely works by the way, but I suppose that is all anyone around here can promise."

Wayne stood up, his posture more slumped and his movements slower than usual, Lena noted. "And with that said, I think I'm gonna turn in."

She opened her mouth to speak, but the ringing doorbell cut off whatever she was going to say.

"Who could that be?" she wondered aloud as she leaned down to open the cabinet beneath the sink. She reached upwards to the wooden lock box fastened to the left of the dish disposal and clicked until she felt the bottom give way. Carefully feeling the two and a half inch barrel, she took the piece into her hand and stood up.

"I'll get the door. Go check on Lauren" she instructed, ignoring his wide eyed look. "C'mon, Wayne, you know I carry."

Wordlessly, he shook his head and headed towards the back of the house.

Through the window to the small, rectangular right of her door she saw a tall figure, clearly male. Dark clothes, baseball hat. _Jax_, she realized almost immediately as she registered the baby seat in his right hand and the toddler slung over his shoulder. A momentary state of disbelief came over her as she remembered their last conversation.

_Two weeks prior_

_Benjamin Franklin once wrote, "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes."_

_Being that she kept two accountants on her staff, Lena knew more about the former than she did about the latter. At twenty nine, Lena Janowitz had seen her fair share of death. Her mother passed when she was 14, her first love died the following year. Her twin brother died in Iraq just before their twenty first birthday. Her father had been locked up in a federal pen since she could remember. The loss of her entire immediate bloodline before her twenty first birthday should've left her worn and raw, like an exposed animal caught in a trap. But instead, she was standing strong, her size six feet firmly planted on the ground. She attributed that fact to the second constant in her life. _

_Family. Namely the man lying in the hospital bed in front of her. _

_Clara, her government first name, had been given to her in his honor and for as long as she could remember Clay Morrow had been her champion. From the pictures of him holding her blanket swaddled __body in his too big arms to the way he scared off just about every boy that took interest in her with a __hard look to the sage advice he gave her when her daughter was first born, he had always given her the support she needed with a heavy dose of tough love. In her weakest moments, he reminded her that she was capable of so much more than feeling sorry for herself. He never sheltered, never sugar coated; he was the one person she could always count on to give it to her straight and treat her like the smart, resourceful woman he had a very large hand in raising. _

_Clay wasn't a perfect man. He wasn't sweet or sensitive. He could be a pigheaded bastard at times, but his intentions weren't malicious. He was a traditional one percenter with a 'village first, villager second' perspective. He wasn't a flip flopper; he made a decision and stuck to his guns. In so many ways, he was the most intelligent man she'd ever known and without a doubt the strongest. _

_But he didn't look so strong now; not with his face paper white and tubes coming out of him from every direction. Lena had the small chair pulled as close to his hospital bed as she could get, clutching his cold, uncharacteristically ring free hand in her own. She kept her eyes on his thick, heavily calloused bear claw trying not to focus on his pained breathing or his cut that was slung over a chair instead of on his back where it belonged. She felt her own breath getting caught in her throat, tears threatening from the back of her eyes._

_Though he wasn't responsive, Clay's gruff voice was clear as day in her mind. You suck that shit up, sweetheart. You ain't some weak, sniveling broad. Crying isn't gonna do anything except make a mess_

"_I'm sorry" she said, embarrassed by her outpour of emotions. She swiped at the few uncontrollable tears that had made their way to the front of her eyes and down her cheeks. She immediately felt stupid for apologizing to someone who couldn't reply._

_A throat cleared behind her, causing her to look up from Clay. _

_Jax stood in the doorway, swathed in dark denim and black leather, his pearly white on white Air Force ones nearly glowing in the otherwise shadowy, poorly lit room. To someone who didn't know him, he would've made an imposing figure. But Lena wasn't some outsider. She wasn't as close to Jax as she was to Opie or Clay, but she knew him well. The two of them had a history, albeit a short one, all their own. _

"_Hey" she said, softly, moving away from Clay to greet him. _

_His body was stiff as a board, his arms at his sides as she attempted to embrace him. The air around him was colder than the hospital room itself. His eyes were so narrow; they looked like shards of glass. _

"_You shouldn't be here." _

_The words stung like a smack in the face. Lena recoiled, taking a step away from him as she felt her ire rise. Her daughter's father once praised for being able to take a punch like a man, a comment she wasn't sure she liked at the time, but realized it was true just the same. For better or worse, she wasn't the type to back down. Getting hit only encouraged her to fight back, harder and meaner than her opponent. Considering who her father was, she assumed it was a genetic trait. _

_Straightening up she put her hands on her hips. "And why is that, Jackson?"_

"_Go" was his only reply as his nostrils flared and the heat in his face rose. _

_In spite of herself, her flight instinct quickly kicked in. If he wanted to fight, he'd surely win whether it be physical or by use of his power as a patch. But she wouldn't be chased away without speaking her mind first. _

"_Okay, I get it." She pointed at the leather he wore on his back. "That gives you authority, makes you entitled to respect. But let me remind you of something, Jax. I may not be a patch, but I grew up in this family. And while I know I do not have any authority, but I expect you to treat me with an iota of respect." _

"_You done?" he asked as he took a step into the personal space she had created between them. _

"_Not quite." She swung her arm back, motioning to Clay. "That man raised me, like he did you and I have every right to…" _

_Closing the distance between them and then some, he quickly backed her up against the wall. His hard grip caught her around her biceps absorbing the shock of her hitting her back and head. Her breath quickened as she felt the familiar sensations of her his rough, calloused hands and the backs of his rings pressing against her skin through the bare cotton of her button up. Grief always made her react in ways she couldn't exactly explain to herself in the moment or even long after. She felt the familiar stirrings of her lonely, sixteen year old self as he pressed his body against hers to hold her in place. _

"_My respect for you is the only reason I didn't toss you out of here by your hair the moment first time you opened your mouth." he ordered, his tobacco laden breath tickling her face. "I'm not going to tell you again, Lena, go" She bucked against his hold, trying to create some distance. "Let me go." _

"_You gonna leave?" _

"_Can't leave if you won't let go of me" she spat, prompting his to relinquish his grip on her upper arms. She rubbed her hands over what were sure to be bruises as she stalked towards the chair that contained her purse and sweater. "Sanctimonious asshole." _

_A mix of hurt, embarrassment, and rejection churned inside of her as she headed for the door, making sure to slam it behind her to let Jax know just how she felt. _

**~(&)~**

"Hey."

Her tone was casual, but the shock was plain on her bare face. She held the door in one hand, the other hidden, no doubt clutching whatever weapon she answered the door with. Once again, times were scary for the entire Redwood family, extending far beyond patches and old ladies.

"I'm sorry to just drop in on you…"

"It's fine." Whatever she held in her hand was placed gently on the side table by the door before opening it up wider. She reached for Abel.

"You sure?" He jerked his head in the direction of Unser's truck in the driveway. "It looks like you've got a full house."

She shook her head as she took Abel into her arms. "No, there's room at the inn. C'mon."

Shifting Thomas' carrier to one hand, he closed the door behind him. He wiped his feet on the interior mat and followed her down the hallway. The house was so different than he remembered, yet so much the same. Lena had definitely put her own touches on her childhood home, but there was still enough of Lara and Sean to remember when there had been three inhabitants. Eyes from the pictures covering the corridor wall seemed to follow Jax. Like most women, Lena seemed to have an emotional attachment to memories captured on film. Knowing there had to be a photo or two that would threaten his hard fought sanity, he trained himself to look ahead and watch her as she opened the first door on the left.

She pulled back the covers of the daybed that sat opposite of the large maple secretary style desk and placed Abel underneath them gently. She looked up at him, her face uncharacteristically blank. _She must still be pissed about the hospital, _he realized.

"You need any help getting them situated?"

He shook his head. "I've got them."

"I'll be in the kitchen" she informed him, heading for the door. "You hungry?"

"I could eat."

**~(&)~**

"Everything alright?"

Wayne seemed to come out of nowhere. Or maybe she was just on edge. Either way, his softly spoken question nearly made her jump out of her skin.

"Sorry" he said as she felt her breathing return to normal. "Who's that? Ope?"

"No, actually" she replied, dropping her voice to a whisper. "It's Jax and his boys."

Greying eyebrows jumped up into the creases in the older man's forehead. "Really? Everything okay?"

"He seems…" She didn't really know how to describe him. He wasn't red eyed or exhausted. He had the same look of utter adoration and complete fear of a single parent. His whole being seemed to be screaming "Do not let me screw up this little life I'm responsible for." "Like he needs an impartial ear."

Her best friend's father didn't look convinced. "You sure? You want me to stay up while he's here?"

"I'll be fine." She couldn't help but smile at his obvious concern. "Goodnight, Wayne."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

Once he was out of sight, she opened the cracked door of her daughter's room. Her smile grew as she looked at the uniform black waves that poked up from underneath the coral and pink flowered bedding. The physical similarities between her daughter and a six year old version of her twin brother never failed to tug at her heart. Lena felt her body relax as she watched her daughter quietly inhale and exhale, her little pink lips forming a perfect O. She still had a cherubic baby face, which considering her precocious nature, was ironic. Lena had to hold in her laughter as she thought of Lauren's knack for asking the most inappropriate questions in public places. She pressed her middle finger and her pointer finger to her lips and blew her 'mini me' a kiss.

"Goodnight, babygirl."

_And now onto to deal with adult problems_.

**~(&)~**

When Jax walked into the kitchen, he immediately took note of the red top covered Tupperware containers stacked on the counter. Truth be told, he had told her he wasn't hungry. He knew she needed something to do with her hands, to keep busy when she was surprised or stressed. He figured that after dropping in on her, it was the least he could do. Then again, the cake in the clear container on the counter looked too good to pass up.

"Don't go to any trouble on my account, darlin. A slice of that cake will be fine."

"Something to drink? I've got instant coffee, tea." She opened the fridge, placing the containers back inside quickly. "Juice, water. The strongest thing I've got is Sunset Blush. No beer or booze."

"No booze? You're definitely not a product of your upbringing" he quipped. "And I don't even want to ask what 'Sunset blush' is. Coffee's fine, darlin."

Keeping her eyes on the task at hand, Lena went slicing up the cake and putting on the water for coffee. As the kettle heated, she placed a thick slice of cake in front of him. She was being polite, very hospitable. But there was an air of coldness around her. He couldn't blame her. Hell, if their roles were reversed he wasn't sure he'd even let her in the front door. He knew Lena wouldn't turn him away when he had the boys with him, but she wouldn't put up a front and act like everything was alright just to placate him. It's exactly why he came to her. He craved her special brand of unadulterated honesty.

"Lena" he began. She took her eyes off the checked teapot to look at him. "I'm really sorry for what I did at the hospital…" _Apologize, don't give her any information that places burdens on her back. _"My actions had nothing to do with you. I'm sorry I took my anger out on you."

"Thank you for that, Jax." She let a silent beat pass between them, like she was almost done making him sweat. "I appreciate it. Apology accepted."

Free to enjoy his cake without guilt, he dug fork first into the thickly frosted cake. He could barely suppress a moan as the sugary sweet frosting mixed with the buttery cocoa taste of the cake. He recognized the taste; it was the only red velvet cake he enjoyed. Forever the inventive chef, Lena's mother Lara had always used buttercream frosting instead of going the traditional cream cheese route. Obviously, Lena carried that to her own baking.

"I'm gonna assume by your silence that you're really enjoy that."

Her voice pulled him out of his cake induced haze. He nodded and wiped his mouth, suddenly a bit nostalgic. "I remember your mom always used to bring this same cake to dinners. She'd always sneak me a piece before dinner when Gemma turned her back. Whenever anyone mentions her, the first thing I think of is this cake."

Lena's smile was wistful. "That's…very sweet. When I think about her, I try to remember things like her driving me to school or dancing around the house as opposed to the way she was right before she died."

He wasn't going to pry, he really wasn't. But they had always been able to talk. And she'd opened that door all by herself.

"What was it like for you right after she died?"

**~(&)~**

Lena would describe herself as a "straight shooter" to a fault, but his painfully direct question nearly knocked her off her feet. She almost dropped the cup of coffee she was fixing for him. She heard the chair he sat in scrap across the floor as he stood. Catching her footing both mentally and physically, she waved him off.

His intentions were crystal clear. He didn't ask her about the most recent deaths in her life, but the one that fit his situation. He wasn't asking out of nosiness or to make conversation, but for his kids. So he could get a better grip on how they might feel. She couldn't be mad. Actually, quite the opposite.

_Young Jackson is maturing. _

"I felt orphaned" she said, searching her mind for more fitting adjectives. "Desolate. Alone, even though I had so many people around me."

He was silent, but his face and body said it all. His jaw dropped, shoulders tensed. She could practically hear his heart shatter in his chest.

"It'll be easier for your kids" she assured him. "They still have you. I had Sean and the club, but it was no replacement for a parent."

**~(&)~ **

Jax was immediately reminded of his father's death. _She's definitely right there. I leaned on Gemma so hard, I'm surprised she didn't break in half. _

"Do you ever wonder if it would be easier if Lenny was around?"

She shrugged with genuine nonchalance. "I don't really know him. I haven't seen him since I was six years old. I can't say anything bad about the guy, but I can't really imagine my life with him. Never really had the choice."

"You know he's got visits now, right?"

Her eyes blackened, the deadly look on her face more fitting on someone like Happy, not an attractive thirty year old woman. "What's the use? Clay has been more of a father to me than Lenny could ever be."

At the mention of his stepfather, he felt his own ire rise. _Time to change the subject._

Apparently she was on the same page. She placed his coffee in front of him and slide into the seat at the head of the table. She put a gentle hand on his wrist.

"It's not about you anymore. It's not about your 'daddy issues'. It's about them. Your boys. Like I told Opie, you have to make the choice to be a better man, a better father than you had. And it's all in the execution, not the talk. Believe me."

Her words were stuck in his head as they spent the next few hours looking through old photos. They cried a little and laughed a lot as they reminisced about the simpler times, the good times, and some of the hardest times in their history. Being able to let his guard down and get lost in positive memories with someone he'd known most of his life was more cathartic than Jax could've imagine.

**~(&)~**

"I really should make an effort to organize more of these" she commented, mostly to herself, as she flipped through early 90's photographs of the Redwood Original kids.

Jax let out a laugh. "Organize?" He held out a photo of Lena and Sean in tubes, himself and Opie behind them ready to flip the oversized donut shaped floatation devices over. "You should blow them up and put them on the wall."

"I love this one." She flipped the picture in her hand to show him the shot of her brother sandwiched in between Jax and Opie right before he left for basic training. "You and Opie rushed back from that run to see Sean off. He wasn't expecting that." Without thinking, she touched the gold spearhead she wore around her neck. "He was so happy. He loved you, Jax. You were his brother even though you never got to share a patch."

"Yeah" he agreed quietly, thumbing the edges of the picture and looking at the photo like he was trying to transport himself back to those days. "He was my brother, too. Like Opie."

"It may not be my place to say, but I'm going to say it anyway…"

He gave her a light, playful shove. "What else is new?"

"Call Opie" she urged softly. "Trust me when I tell you, you won't know what you've got till he's gone. You have a choice. I didn't."

Without any further comment on the subject, he picked up yet another photo and held it out to her. "Remember this one…"

**~(&)~ **

After checking on Lauren one last time, Lena retreated to her bed. Her body was dog tired, but her mind wouldn't shut off. Her conversation with Jax replayed over and over in her head, on an endless loop. It was a never ending cycle, death in their lives. JT, Lara, Sean, Thomas, Tara-the list went on and on. Lena had long since accepted death as a part of life, but what about her daughter? Or Jax's kids? They were losing people left and right and they were just kids. What kind of foundation would they have if their roots kept being ripped out from under them?

A knock at her door distracted her from her mental line of questioning. She was expecting Lauren. Her baby girl had a sixth sense about other people being in the house. She awoke nearly every time they had a guest and tonight their home was full of them.

"Come in" she called.

Instead of peering down at a little dark haired head, she found herself glancing up at blonde head. Jax stood in her bedroom door. He was bare chested, all of the finely carved muscles of his upper body on display. He was bulkier, more broad chested than she remembered but still held onto the leanness of his younger years. He'd always been good looking, and well aware of the fact but his handsome youth had formed into something more graceful and primitive all at the same time. His slicked back hair and bright cobalt blue eyes gave him a Steve McQueen that she'd always found so alluring.

But that was just the physical. Long gone was his cocky white boy, wannabe hip hop star swagger or the suave charm that prompted ladies of every age, race, and background to throw their panties at him. He looked conflicted, vulnerable. Childlike. Obviously their conversation had left him as raw, if not even more so, than it left her.

"Come in" she repeated before she could stop herself, flipping the covers open for him in invitation.

She quickly realized that he could easily misinterpret her intentions, although she could never be quite sure of them herself when it came to him. They had a long history, a string of less than casual hookups being a part of them. She always prided herself on having a decent measure of self-control, but she wasn't sure she'd be quick to shove him away if he made a move.

He moved across the room, climbing into her queen sized bed next to her. He banded an arm around her, pulling her close. She wasn't quite sure what to make of his actions. She felt much younger than her mature age of thirty. He wasn't toeing a line, just clinging to her as if he was looking for comfort.

"You know, when you first showed up to talk I was wondering why you didn't go to one of the guy's houses" she joked, hoping to get a laugh out of him. "Now I know."

He raised a blonde brow in question.

"Cause this position would be really gay if say, Ope, were in my position."

His response was somewhere between a chuckle and a sob.

_Yeah_, she thought, _That sounds about right._

**~(&)~**

The following morning Jax woke up without the aid of an alarm clock. He was immediately struck by the heaviness in his arms, and also, by the mouth full of soft textured hair. He was almost fooled, thinking that his waking life for the past couple weeks had been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare that he had finally woken up from. But then he inhaled a scent that was distantly familiar. Sort of like a mixture of berries and flowers, the same body wash that the woman in his arms had used since her teenage years.

_October 1998_

_Loose strands of honey colored hair fell down her back as she leaned forward, back arched and shoulders straight as if to exaggerate the curve of her delicate back down to her jutting hips. Her profile-all high cheekbones with a natural dusting of rose pink and a small, straight nose-was striking. She might not have been a grown woman yet, but she certainly looked like one._

"_Tell me to go inside" she said, her usually loud voice quiet and breathy. _

_He found himself watching her too full bottom lip as she spoke. With her tight body and angelic face, she was pure sin wrapped in cotton and denim. Lena Janowitz had brains as well as beauty and was off limits to boot, but that only seemed to add to her appeal. He had a clubhouse full of ready, willing, and experienced women but there was something so damn hot about the one girl that could cause him to have his balls and his patches removed with the same knife. _

_He definitely wasn't expecting her to kiss him. _

_Lena's deep set brown eyes were enormous and inquisitive, lashes touching the tops of her flushed cheeks as she looked him in the eye. He hadn't anticipated her pressing that flawless body against his in the least. But she had. The wall he was hastily building between himself and her quickly crumbled as he watched her chest move when she sighed softly. Her silky, textured hair and warm skin, the absolutely insane curve of her waist extenuated by the way she was laying…goddamn._

_Closer, closer, closer__ his body and mind seemed to chant together as he unraveled his finger from her hair so he could wrap an arm around her._

_The breeze had faded and he knew her shiver was a reaction to his touch and not the wind. He fought the urge to pull her right into his lap and manhandle her until she begged him to take her further. She wasn't a club chick. She was a founding member's kid, just like he was. He had to think with the right head first. He couldn't just take her right there on the porch and expect not to face the unknown, but sure to be brutal consequences. This much he knew, but still he couldn't __not__ touch her._

_Running a hand over the side of her face, he settled it in her hair. Long hair was his second favorite thing about a woman, right after a nice, round ass. Lena had plenty of both-her hair was thick and shiny and obviously untouched by dyes and products. And that bodacious ass of hers was straight out of a rap video._

_The whole innocent face/voluptuous body combo that was Lena Janowitz's exterior was quickly wearing him down. And he just knew that he could only take so much of her breathy little sighs and blushes in response to his touch before his self-control completely diminished. Logic told him to push her away and he was working up to it before he felt her small finger running across his bottom lip._

_So much for boundaries and self-control and consequences. Jax had always been a 'jump in the ocean first, check for sharks later' type anyway._

A dip was effective in bringing him back to the present. Despite the comfortable surroundings, he was immediately on alert.

"Jax?"

Blue green eyes set in a round, chubby child's face observed him, wide with questions that would soon come out of her mouth. Lena's daughter Lauren may have looked just like a little female version of Sean, but she was her mother's child in every other way. Not for the first time, Jax wondered about her paternity. Lena had always been so secretive as to who Lauren's father was. She immediately shut down everybody who asked, telling them to mind their business before changing the subject or walking out of the room.

"Morning, darlin" he said as he detangled himself from Lena and sat up. "What're you doing up so early?"

"What are _you_ doing in my mommy's bed?" she countered as she scooted closer on her hands and knees.

As he contemplated the best way to answer her, she situated herself between him and Lena. She looked at her mother quickly before turning back to him. "You better get out of here. Mommy doesn't like when people play in her bed, especially when she's sleeping."

Perfect time for an exit. "You know what, La? You're right. I'm gonna get out of here before she wakes up." On his way to the door, he tossed over his shoulder, "Don't tell her, okay?"

The little girl winked as if to say she would keep their 'secret'.

_Oh boy! Is Lena gonna have her hands full with that one! _

**~(&)~**

A morning person by nature, Lena awoke just shy of her six AM alarm. She rolled over, noticing that her companion was no longer there. However her six year old was. She said nothing as she rolled over and mock snored, feigning sleep. Soon, she felt her daughter crash against her back, her little giggles explosive.

"Stop faking, Mommy. I know you're awake."

Rolling over, Lena reached out to take her baby in her arms. "What are you doing up already, chicken little?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I just woke up." She leaned in close, cupping her hands to indicate she wanted to tell Lena a secret. Needing no further prompting, the six year old spilled her guts. "Guess who I found in here this morning."

_No need_, Lena groaned internally. _I knew letting him sleep in here wasn't a good idea. Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Since she decided that Lauren's father wouldn't be allowed in the picture, the two of them had been a duo. Lena had her family and her business, but she put all her emotional energy into raising her daughter. She'd been on a couple dates, but Lauren never met any of them. She certainly never woke up to find a man in her mother's bed.

To make matters worse, Lauren knew Jax. He was a part of her family. Not as close as Clay or Ope, but still someone she knew and loved. Lauren played with Abel and had called Tara "Auntie". The circumstances of the past twelve hours had been confusing to Lena herself. She had no idea how to explain them to her small daughter!

_All I know is that I have to tread very lightly with this. _

"Hey, how about some breakfast?"

Like her mother before her, the six year old wasn't above being bribed-especially when said bribe involved food.

"I want pancakes."

_Thank God she still has the attention span of a nat. _

**~(&)~**

Either she was really engrossed in making breakfast or she was completely ignoring him.

With Thomas in his lap, he observed his other two tablemates absorbed by the coloring books Lena had set out for them. Abel and Lauren passed various colors back and forth, sharing their work with each other as they went. The four year old and six year old seemed so at ease, so oblivious to the circumstances surrounding them. Jax felt himself relax a fraction as he watched his first born smile and laugh like the carefree, innocent kid he was.

The SAMCRO president was all too familiar with having childhood came to an abrupt end. Losing his father left him with a heightened sense of duty, one that he wasn't entirely sure that he fulfilled. Whether he lived up to his new responsibilities depended heavily on his moods, something he just started admitting to himself. His mother had always picked up the pieces, used them to push him up higher and elevate to a higher status in the club. He errantly wondered if he brought that to his relationship, if maybe he leaned on Tara too hard…

_Reel that shit in_, he ordered himself as he felt Thomas squirm in his arms.

Lena's words replayed in his head, _"It's not about you anymore. It's not about your 'daddy issues'.It's about them. Your boys."_

She couldn't be more right. He couldn't do what his father did and bleed all over his boys. He wasn't going to sit around, writing about what he should be doing. He was going to be a better man. He just needed to figure out how.

The clanging of dishes against the island ushered him out of his own head. He watched Lena meticulously organize the breakfast plates, filling them with pancakes and what smelled like bacon.

"You need any help?" Jax called.

She didn't look up, but she shook her head carefully so not to dislodge the towel her hair was wrapped up in. "No thanks."

"Here." She reached for Thomas after setting the plates down. "I'll take him. You eat. He can hang with me while I check my messages."

"Wow, you really don't stop" he marveled, speaking his thoughts aloud as he handed his youngest over to her.

"You're gonna be a soccer player, huh?" she cooed at Thomas who happily kicked his feet as she held him high in the air. After she settled the baby on her hip, she fixed Jax with a look. "This is gonna be you, just watch. Being a single parent makes you an expert at time management and routine, trust me. I've always been a little Type A…"

"Understatement of the century" he quipped, earning himself a light smack.

"But after Lauren was born, I became a lot worse. Timed showers, scheduling sleep, to do lists up the wazoo."

"Fun" he drawled sarcastically as he dug into his plate.

"Not really." She sighed, glowy dark eyes fixed on her daughter. "It's worth it though."

**~(&)~**

Wayne watched the somewhat rambunctious bunch in the kitchen from the living room. Though he knew he was welcome, he didn't enter the kitchen. The five of them looked like…a real family. Jax sat at the head of the table, the constipated look he had been sporting since Clay's shooting replaced by a light, laughing smile. He and Abel were nearly rolling in the floor, probably due to the very animated story Lauren told from her seat.

Lena sat at the opposite end, bouncing Thomas lightly as she listened to messages on her phone. Occasionally she'd jot something down on the small pad in front of her, but mostly she'd make faces at Jax's son and tickle his belly. Once she put the phone down, her attention was divided between her daughter and Jax. Wayne was surprised to see her get up and move to the unoccupied seat at his right.

Unser prayed silently that they weren't going down this road again, not now. Even with the kids included, the scene in front of him looked oddly like the one from thirteen years ago. Jax and Lena weren't really an item per say, but they had something. Something that had been serious enough to put fear into the people closest to them; Wayne recalled several conversations with a frazzled Gemma who couldn't understand why her "pussyhound " of a son spent so much goddamn time around her house, mooning over the one girl who could cause him to lose his patch. Likewise, Clay had made several comments about Jax distracting Lena from the life she wanted, the one she was working towards.

Luckily for the King and Queen, whatever the prince and the first daughter had fizzled out. He figured maybe Jax had lost interest or Lena had smartened up, maybe a combo of both. Just before her nineteenth birthday, Lena met a quiet dark haired patch from Rogue River, moved to Oregon, and the rest was history.

_But maybe, like the rest of the history floating around, nothing is really ever dead and buried._ For a moment, he considered calling Gemma. She would know just how to cut this off at the pass._ Then again, maybe there's nothing to cut off. And considering her tendency to turn weenie roasts into forest fires, maybe it's best I keep this info under my hat. _


	3. Heavy

**A/N: I am the absolute worst. Warm weather has only doubled my RL workload (run season…ugh!) I know I promised y'all a chapter per week and it's been a month. (Again I'm the worst!) I intended to make up for breaking my word by posting a few chapters at a time but the next chapter needs a bit of work. It's definitely an "a-ha" moment for at least one of my leads. Chapter 4 also contains 2 fairly lengthy, history exposing convos with two of the most important men in Lena's life so it's going to take a minute. I'm almost done editing and will have it up ASAP. **

**In the meantime, enjoy this one! **

Tumbler full of tea in the cup console, TI's latest blaring through the speakers of her SUV Lena tried to ignore the plaguing uneasiness caused by the noise in her head and focus on the road in front of her. Despite the unexpected guests the night before, she continued her daily routine without interruption. She was trying her best to shake off the discomfort, writing it off as residual emotion from a night of deep discussion of the painful past.

_Talking is good_, she told her. _Cathartic. Healthy. _

Then why did she feel so raw? Like someone picked all her scabs and threw salt in the wounds? She'd always prided herself on being a product of her upbringing. She was resilient enough to lose just about everyone around her, grow up in a male dominated society and still manage to be an independent woman. A single mother, a business owner, a shoulder for many of the big, tough men in her life to lean on in their weakest moments...maybe her shoulders were a bit too heavy these days. She was no martyr. She wouldn't let herself drown under anyone's weight. Maybe it was time for her to take a step back.

At that very thought, she chuckled aloud. Who was she kidding? If she was Superwoman then her family was her kryptonite. She wouldn't turn any of them away. After all, what would she look like doing that? She wasn't that far removed from the weeping, confused, pregnant twenty four year old that leaned extra hard on Clay, the Unsers, and even Donna. What right did she have to refuse to help them? Who was she to judge how they handled their shit?

As the large, intimidating iron gates of Calvary Collegiate, the uppity non-denominational school that she shelled out an arm and a leg for her baby to attend, disappeared in her rearview she wondered if she was making a mistake by not sending La to Charming public schools. It would save her a ton of money and an hour drive; she'd be close in case of emergencies. But then again, there was the answer in itself. While she wasn't privy to club business, Clay just briefed her enough to keep her and her child safe, she knew that they'd spent the past few years neck deep in some serious shit.

Growing up in the safe cocoon of the Reaper always made Lena feel safe growing, but as the list of causalities mounted she grew more and more nervous. The substantial payout and the grueling drive was a fair price for keeping Lauren out of the fray. Her baby would never be a victim of the club's circumstances like Abel had been. Like Donna. And indirectly Kenny, Ellie, and little Thomas. She wasn't Jax or Opie, conflicted wasn't her style. Nor did she have to carry the burden that came along with wearing a Reaper. Her child was her first priority and as long as she was breathing, nothing was going to touch her precious little girl.

In an attempt to drown out the noise in her head, she cranked up her music. She let Clifford Harris' voice fill her car as he rapped about the trouble that had followed him from rags to riches. She rapped along, losing herself in his story in order to forget her own.

That is, until, the white smoke emanating from the hood of her Volvo brought her back to reality.

**~(&)~**

From her perch at the office, Gemma Teller-Morrow's eagle eyes observed her surroundings. She had a perfect three dimensional view of the lot from the bays to the clubhouse. She mentally clocked who was already in the garage. Tig and Juice were working in their usual places, Chibs had just arrived. She couldn't see him, but she certainly heard him even through the door and above the racket. Bobby and Happy were sitting across the way at the picnic table, smoking and enjoying their morning coffee. Only one very important patch was unaccounted for.

Just as the questions began to form in her mind, Jax emerged from the clubhouse. He sat on top of the picnic table and lit up. She watched him interact with Bobby and Happy, her concerned eyes taking in his current state. His clothes looked clean, not disheveled as if he had been wearing them for days as had been his norm. No slumping or slouching, he sat straight up. She could see him smiling, which prompted her to do the same. His body shook as if he was laughing, truly laughing and not just going through the motions.

Gemma released a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. Her baby's lively, light appearance brought her an immeasurable amount of relief. In the past two weeks, Jackson's loss had been crushing not only him but everyone around who loved him. She could see the concern in the eyes of Chibs, Bobby and even Happy. She watched gratefully as the community he was raised in rallied around him. She had tried to comfort him herself, but there seemed to be a barrier around him. One that she couldn't penetrate or even touch, but it seemed to be designed with the sole purpose of keeping her out.

Perhaps that was for the best. Though she had held him and gotten him through heartbreaking loss before, this time was different. Tara, that bitch had been as selfish in death as she had in life. First trying to leave the club with Jax in tow and when she do have that, she left him with a whole new set of baggage and two sons to raise. Jax's anguish was like nothing Gemma herself had ever seen and considering that she had spent the past thirty something years of her life holding together the roughest, toughest, most stubborn group of men this side of NorCal that was saying a lot.

Her precious baby's grief was like a feral animal-wild and untamed, calculating, unpredictable and unstoppable. She didn't know where the beast stopped and where he began. He seemed to have infinite patience with his boys and with his brothers, but with her it seemed as if he didn't want to be bothered. He wasn't outright hateful. Then again, he wasn't outright anything. He just seemed to stew, with white heat behind his questioning eyes.

The shrill ringing of the phone tore her from watching her boy, but did nothing to deter her mind. She had hands in building Teller-Morrow, both the business and the family, from the ground up. While she was epically failing in her position as Old Lady and mother, at least she could still run the office with her eyes closed.

"Teller-Morrow?"

"Gemma" the familiar female voice on the other end acknowledged, causing the fine hairs on the back of Gemma's neck to go up. "I need a tow. I'm a little further out than the guys usually travel, but I figured I'd have Triple A tow me to you guys anyway so…"

"No need for the explanation, darlin" Gemma replied with more snark than she intended. Considering the conflicting loyalties at play, she'd considered hanging the phone up on the little bitch. But Lena was as deeply rooted in the Sons family as Gemma herself. If she hung up on her, the tenacious gash would gladly call one of the guys directly. Considering the thin ice Gemma was skating on these days, she knew she better not ruffle feathers or challenge anyone connected to her family to a pissing contest. A few months ago, she might've but now she wasn't so sure she'd win.

She quickly took down Lena's information and promptly sent the prospects out in the tow.

**~(&)~**

Lena shut the car off, leaving the keys in the ignition. She pulled the latch to pop the hood and stepped out. She was no mechanic, but she knew the basics. She intended to take a quick look, nothing too deep since she didn't want to worry about dirtying her clothes. Reaching carefully, she undid the latch and pushed the hood up lightly.

_The fucking water pump_, she deduced with a low audible growl, after giving the interior of the hood a quick once over._ This vehicle is far too new to need a new one! Piece of shit!_

Before her inner tirade could come to verbal fruition, she heard someone pull up. With one hand on the little steel point in her pocket, she turned to see who pulled up. A sigh of relief moved through her and out her Carmex coated lips as the white, tan, and orange Teller Morrow truck pulled up. She smiled at the two prospects gratefully and waved before Rat made a slight U-turn to position the truck to tow her car.

With a nostalgic sadness and slight anxiety, she remembered the not so long ago days of Clay being in charge. Knowing the full extent of her asthma and slight claustrophobia, he would always send a separate ride. He would often send a prospect or a mechanic in one of the beaters on the lot so she wouldn't have to endure the tight space or the unpleasant smell of the inside of the tow. But Clay's dethroning seemed to extend to the garage as well, so now she'd have to endure sitting between two sweaty dudes and inhaling the oh-so-potent aroma of old food, tobacco, and body odor.

_Stop being a brat_, she ordered herself, _At least you're getting a ride._

**~(&)~**

The subtle fruity floral scent coming from Lena was powerful enough to fill Rat's nose, but not so much so that it knocked him over. Her smell matched her look. Her skirt, shirt, and toe baring flat shoes were professional, but still showed brought attention to her curvy-more Coke bottle than Cosmopolitan-frame. She almost always wore her long, lush honey colored hair loose but today it was pulled up and out of her heart shaped face into a bun. She was more striking than he'd realized, her dark, deep set eyes stark against her light hair and peaches and cream complexion.

Valuing his life-which hopefully included living long enough to see his top rocker-he was careful not to stare. Rat had been hanging around the Sons for a few years now, just following his discharge from the Army, and he was well aware of not only how loved Lena was by the Sons, but also how much respect they gave her. She was the biological daughter of an incarcerated member, raised largely by Clay and Piney. She had a very close, platonic relationship with Opie and was obviously tight with Jax's Old Lady. She seemed to be the one female who could (lightly) rib on the Fearsome Twosome that was Tig and Happy and get away with it. The more Rat heard about her and as he interacted with her, he learned that it was pretty close to impossible to not like her.

Unlike Gemma, Lena had no airs. She had a dark past and a loud, frequent laugh. She was polite to everyone from patches to free pussy. She was witty and sharp tongued, with a slightly dirty sense of humor. Endlessly respectful, but not a doormat; she wasn't even remotely afraid to put an out of line croweater or hangaround in her/his place. She was the one woman, besides Gemma, that had a hold over Clay. Rat suspected that might be the source of contention between the two women, who should've been as thick as thieves yet couldn't stand one another for more than a few minutes.

As they pulled into the lot, his suspicion was confirmed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lena's body tighten. Her face grew tense, cheeks paling and eyes turning to stone. He felt her hand wrap around his arm just before he stopped in front of the office.

"Pull up to the bay" she ordered through clenched teeth. "Please. I have no desire to deal with the wicked witch right now."

**~(&)~**

Strolling from the clubhouse over to the office, Jax eyed the chrome colored SUV that pulled up on the tow. He momentarily wondered why the truck was pulling up and not around to back the car into the garage. He looked at the SUV once again and realized that the Volvo looked familiar. Really familiar.

"Thanks, guys" an unmistakable female voice called after the prospects.

Jax watched Lena ease her way out of the tow. She was shuffling rather slowly, the knee length form hugging white skirt she wore making her journey out of the tow difficult. She seemed to care little about exiting quickly, more intent on keeping her lightly tanned, shapely legs closed. Apparently the little pouty mouth raised by crude bikers was also a lady, which further added to her appeal. Without thinking, he moved forward and extended a hand into the truck to assist her.

"Thanks," she echoed, grabbing onto his hand and letting him pull her gently. "You're a real gentleman, Jackson."

"You know what they say about tattoos and chivalry going together" he quipped, giving her a once over that he kinda hoped was subtle.

Lena grinned, her pearly whites dazzling. "Like oil and water?" She slapped a hand against his chest gently. "Then again, you've always been quite the enigma. "

Her hand lingered, her eyes following as the edges of her fingers brushed over the thread that sowed the 'President' patch to his cut. She didn't bother to hide the dark look in her eyes, a mix of anger and sorrow that he wasn't quite sure was meant for him. She hadn't spoken to him about Clay since their confrontation at the hospital, but he was pretty positive that he knew where she stood on the former Pres' dethroning. He wasn't sure how much she knew nor was he going to explain anything about anything to her if she didn't need to know. As she was still speaking to him, he figured that Opie and Clay were keeping her in the dark too.

"Jax." She made eye contact once again. He felt his gut squeeze. She had gorgeous hair-wild, long, wavy and soft-but she was so fucking beautiful with it pulled out of her face. Lena Janowitz was far from a bombshell or a primped porn starlet, but she was probably one of the prettiest women he'd ever known. She wore minimal makeup on her skin which was the natural color of the light and sweet coffee he drank every morning. Dark blonde lashes framed round, deep set eyes that were nearly onyx in color. Her lips were a soft rosy pink, her bottom one protruding out. He knew she hated they fact that they were so "uneven" but he found the quirk cute.

"Jax." The impatience in her tone brought him back to reality. "Can you please get my laptop out of my car? I'd get it myself, I left my inhaler in the car and the fumes aren't good for my asthma."

"Sure thing." He gave her a lopsided grin in the hopes that it would remove the sour look from her face. "You know I'm all about the service, darlin." He turned to the prospects that seemed to more intent on watching their exchange and waiting for directions than actually working. He pointed a finger at V-Lin. "Get the lady's briefcase and bring it out here. Be fucking careful."

A loud giggle rippled through the air, causing Jax's gut to squeeze once again. "Whatever happened to 'if you want something done right, do it yourself'?"

Considering the amount of people in earshot and the fact that he was in full colors, he seriously contemplated reprimanding her. Or at the very least, laying a warning on her. She might have been club connected, but she wasn't a member and regardless of the fact that he'd inconvenienced her the night before she was still expected to show him the utmost respect. In public, at least.

_Nah, no need to flex your muscles with her_, he decided. She had always been a smartass, full of fire. But she never hurt or disrespected anyone, not even croweaters, unless she felt that the same had been done to her first. Just the same, he opted to throw a little of her own fire back at her.

"Then shouldn't I have you go get your own briefcase, _Princess_?" he teased, knowing that she had loathed the term in her younger years.

Her eyes narrowed for just a moment before her face exploded into a cheeky smile. She held up a peace sign. "Truce." After accepting her briefcase from V-Lin, she lopped her free arm through his. "Come on, Jax. You know I've got an attitude that's almost as big as my butt."

_She just had to bring up her sweet ass. Just had to, right? _ He decided to run with it. He craned his neck, giving a lecherous look before taking a glance at her aforementioned behind. His actions earned him a light, playful smack.

"Pig!"

He threw his free hand up in faux defense. "Hey I was just checking to see if your statement was true."

Rolling her eyes, she gave a long, dramatic sigh. "You're incorrigible."

"Been called worse." He shrugged before up-nodding towards the office. "Come on, I'll walk you to the office. Gemma can hook you up with a workspace or call you a cab, whatever you need…"

Her pretty face drained of any emotion, eyes deadening. She gave a protesting tug on his arm. "Can I sit in the clubhouse instead? I'd work better from there."

Confused, Jax looked between the office and Lena. His mother stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. Between the pinched look on her face, her posture and her outfit she was suddenly looking like the Wicked Witch of the West Coast. She quickly fixed her glare on Lena, her eyes sparking. If she could literally glare daggers, Lena would probably be bleeding on the ground right now.

The two of them had never been the best of friends. Jax always suspected that Gemma was jealous of the attention that Clay gave Lena. Despite the lack of biological ties, Clay and Lena had a very strong father/daughter bond. Everyone, Gemma included, was well aware of that fact. Clay wasn't looking at her with any sort of sexual attraction; he wasn't grooming her. Jax knew for a fact that Gemma had thrown a fit about the young teen moving in with them. Gemma was just competitive with other women; she was inwardly intimidated by younger ones and just plain vile to ones her own age. The only woman that Gemma was ever been a friend to was Luann and that had everything to do with the porn queen understanding her place as Gemma's puppet.

Lena, like Donna Winston, refused to be bullied by Gemma. She respected her. She listened to her. She helped her. She tried to keep the peace for Clay's sake. But she refused to drink her Kool-Aid. Strong willed and independent minded Lena refused to a soldier in Gemma's army.

The lines in the sand grew that much clearer after Clay beat Gemma down. Even with the history between the grizzled President and the fairest Janowitz, Jax was surprised that she was on Team Clay. How could a woman that was so established in her own right-a real do-it-herself single mom/business owner-agree with a man laying a smack down like on his wife? But she did and she refused to defend or justify her actions (or Clay's actions) to anyone who confronted her. She basically told everyone around her that she was a grownup who was entitled to her own opinions and whoever didn't like it could kiss her ass. Her entire ass to be exact.

This put her at odds with just about everyone, except for Opie who seemed to be accepting of her decision, especially Gemma.

With a protective urge he couldn't explain, he moved in front of her and angled himself in front of her. "Hang on a minute. I'm gonna get Lowell working on your car and get the Wi-Fi password from Juice. Then I'll walk you back myself."

She disengaged her arm from his and shifted her weighty looking briefcase to her other shoulder. "Can't I just head back there now? I can wait for Wi-Fi."

He shook his head. "We've got a couple Nomads in town; I don't think you've met them. Don't need them thinking you're free game."

"And who says I'm not?"

"Lena" he warned as he reached out to take her briefcase. She protested slightly, stating that she had it. "Come on, Leen, I saddled you with my emotional baggage last night. At least let me carry your briefcase."

"If you insist."

**~(&)~**

As Jax looked on, Juice arranged a little workspace for her on his corner desk. Lena sat back in a battered leather swivel chair, a slew of smart aleck comments on the tip of her tongue. She was extremely tempted to remind Juice that she ran a trucking business, she could handle typing in a password. But she checked the urge and reminded herself that she was in the clubhouse. She might have been family, but that didn't give her carte blanche to talk to whomever however. Besides, she had always liked Juice, even back in the days of him being a soft prospect that everyone loved to heckle.

Like she predicted long ago, his soft surface had turned to hard edges. He was still the least intimidating of the Sons. Soft spoken, gay haircut, sparse visible ink, big smile-but there was an obvious protective outer shell that hadn't been around him before. She figured fourteen months in jail put a little hair on his chest. She was glad for that. He could be a better patch, keep himself safe.

"You like your phone?" Juice broke the silence between the three of them first and of course, he was talking about her latest techno buy.

"Well, this thing" she held up her iPhone. "Is pretty idiot proof. But I probably should've gone with the Galaxy , like you said. More options, more apps…better system…"

He smiled, putting his white Chiclet teeth on display. "I won't say I told you so, but…"

"Yeah, yeah, you told me so. I should've stayed in the Droid family."

"You really should've…"

Before he could launch into his "Apple could sell a brick with their logo on it but that doesn't make it good" spiel, Jax interrupted.

"Everything all set?"

Juice nodded. "Yep."

"You can get back to work. Tell Lowell I want her car done by lunchtime." The authority in his tone was unmistakable and sort of foreign coming from him.

After Lena and Juice exchanged quick goodbyes, Jax sat beside her. "I'm gonna leave you alone in a second, darlin, but first I just wanted to thank you again."

"No need, Jax. You and your boys are family. You're welcome anytime." She patted his arm. "Although, preferably, with warning or at a responsible hour. Both are negotiable though."

"I'm really sorry about that…"

Giving his arm a squeeze, she assured him, "Jax, stop. Don't apologize and don't explain. I know how it is. I've stood in those shoes-dead significant other, single parent. The pain and the guilt…I get it. It took me a long time to be this solid. And I didn't do it alone." She reached up her free hand and touched the side of his face. "You don't have to either."

In a movement that surprised the shit out of her, he kissed the exposed inside of her hand lightly. She bristled, a bit tingly and slightly uncomfortable. The gesture was sweet, affectionate, and though unexpected not the least bit uncalled for. She just didn't know what to do with it.

"I mean it" she reiterated. "Anytime you need to _talk_" she emphasized the word for sake of boundaries. "Don't be afraid to knock on my door."

**Later on that night…**

He wasn't going to come here. He really wasn't. He couldn't go home, not like this, not tonight, but he shouldn't be here either.

As he starred down the blue grey ranch, her words echoed in his head.

"_I didn't do it alone…you don't have to either…knock on my door…anytime…"_

His entire trek down the I-5, he contemplated where he should go. His kids were safely spending the night with grandma, not that he could go home to them in this state. He was bruised and bloody, fresh off from battle. His head and hands throbbed. His shoulders were sore. He had ridden so long his legs were nearly numb. He felt so goddamn heavy and he couldn't figure out what was weighing on him more-his physical state or his baggage. He was so sick of fighting; for his club, for his life, for his sanity.

"Psstt."

She was probably trying to be quiet, but her voice rang out like a gong. She was so goddamn loud, always had been. And her California nasal made her sound sort of like a cartoon character. But, as corny the thought was, her voice was like music to his ears.

"If you're come in, come in" she called, opening the door. "I've got nosy neighbors, you know."

And just like that he felt ten pounds lighter.

"You can take your filthy ass shoes off right there" she ordered, pointing to a little mat by the door. As he toed off his scuffed Nikes, he could feel her eyes on him. Her nerves were electric, palpable. He could sense her concern, her uneasiness. As much as he didn't want to, he was tempted to tell her he'd leave.

But she spoke before he could say anything. "You can shower in my bathroom. All the towels on the rack are fresh. There are some clean washcloths and probably a bar of Dial in the hall linen closet."

He appraised her as she went on. The robe she wore thin and flimsy, just past her knees and obnoxiously brightly colored in purples, pinks, oranges and yellows. She obviously wrapped it around her in haste as he could see the top of her white thin strapped nightie. Along with being fantastically braless, her makeup was washed away and she wore no jewelry. Her hair was pulled into a long, haphazard ponytail, stray hairs sticking up in every direction. She was fucking sexy.

"Go on" she urged. "And try to be quiet. If my kid wakes up, you're gonna answer her questions."

With little contemplation, he decided that he'd rather face the business end of a gun-again-than answer that particular child's far too insightful questions.

**~(&)~**

The water was running when she tiptoed her way into the bathroom. She took the clear plastic bag in her hand and collected Jax's disguarded clothes with it protecting her hands. _What a fucking slob._ No blood stains were visible and she opted not to look for them. She bagged them up, laid out a pair of sweats and a fresh tee shirt on her bed and continued to the mudroom.

While she waited, she scoured the fridge. She had brought most of her leftovers to Clay's this afternoon for lunch. She managed to throw together a quick grilled cheese and reheated some tomato bisque soup, keeping her hands busy so her mind couldn't wander. She had told Jax to drop by if he needed to talk. She wasn't going to overanalyze nor was she going to ask any more than he wanted to offer. She knew better than to pry and truth be told, she didn't really want to know.

She wasn't his Old Lady. She didn't want to be either. Growing up in the life and also having an Old Man once upon a time herself, she knew that wasn't a burden she couldn't take on. She had a business to run and a child to raise and…

_And here comes Anxiety girl, able to jump to the most ridiculous conclusion in a single bound! _

Snuffing out the noise in her head, Lena sat back in her chair. Jax enjoyed his food. Their conversation flowed. She relaxed a fraction, trying to convince herself that talking to an old flame/extended family member about his dead wife while he wore her dead brother's clothing was totally normal. Totally fucking normal.


	4. Soldier's Eyes

**This chapter was getting crazy; I was cutting and chopping, then going back and adding more. I was scrambling my own brain. So I split it in two, leaving Clay and Lena's convo as a standalone. **

**A couple weeks later**

Feeling more tired than he had in…ever, Clay Morrow stretched out on his couch with the intention of taking a pre-lunch snooze. While being mindful of the tubing connected to his O2, he shifted around trying to get comfortable. The Cortisone shot/Vicodin combination made both his arthritis and post shot wound pain manageable. According to the doc, he was recovering at an accelerated pace. But in the grizzled former President's mind, everything was in slow motion. Less than three months ago, he was dodging bullets and making deals with some of the world's most powerful men. Now, he was so lethargic he could barely get out of bed. He felt weighed down, like he was moving underwater.

_Depression could be the culprit_; the doctor said on his last visit, _many people experience a bout after a near death experience._

He scoffed, refused the "happy pills" the doctor offered and got into the van in an even fouler mood than he had been in prior to the appointment. He had never, and would never, be the type to blame his actions on some mental defect or illness. The current state of his life-loss of the gavel, half dead lung, ruined marriage-was a product of his own choices and nothing else.

The slamming of a car door quickly brought Clay out of his own head and onto his feet. The O2 was helping his lungs, but he still wasn't breathing easy. He had gone from a respected, relatively untouchable President to public enemy number one with a long list of people gunning for him. Grabbing his Glock off the table and clicking the safety off for good measure, he walked to the window to check who was outside. A smile came across his face as he watched the short occupant of the metallic silver Volvo SUV round her car to grab a large canvas bag out of the passenger side seat.

To his knowledge, Clay had no biological kids of his own. That was just fine by him as he never dreamt of being old and grey surrounded by an army of kids and grandchildren. He had his brothers and later on Gemma and that was enough. His lack of want for children of his own didn't stop him from adopting and helping raise Jax after John's death. He needed a strong man to show him how to deal and not run. Jax was Gemma's kid after all. In Clay's mind he had no other choice but to step up.

However, his bond with Lenny's little girl had been a choice. Well, sort of.

Clay could still remember the mid-September day that Lena and her brother Sean were born. With a full head of his father's dark hair and a pair of lungs that threatened to shatter the windows of St. Thomas, Sean had come out first. Lena, who everyone was expecting to be a boy, took much longer to pass through. She was born with a hairless egg shaped head and underdeveloped lungs. She was such a small, sickly thing that most of the waiting family members had been scared to hold her.

Though it shouldn't have, what shocked the shit out of Clay was Lenny's reaction. Upon hearing the news about his daughter's health, tears streamed down the hardened SAA's face, silent sobs shook his whole stocky body. Knowing that Lenny's sadness would manifest into him clocking someone, most likely the doctor, Clay escorted his brother outside for a smoke break.

"_What do I do, man?"_ Lenny had asked him. He was still shaking so hard that he could barely bring the Zippo to his unfiltered Camel cig. "_She's already got the chips stacked against her with me as her father and now she's sick?_"

As usual, the Gulag biker had a point. If karma decided to knock at the little girl's door, then she'd have a heavy price to pay for the way her pimp father treated women. But that time in her life was so far ahead. If being in the battlefields of Vietnam taught Clay anything it was to focus on the task at hand and not what could or would happen down the road.

"_Look, man"_, Clay said, grabbing Lenny's shoulders to steady him. "_You can't worry about what's to come. Lenny, you may be the ugliest motherfucker I know, but you're also the toughest. You gotta be strong for her now…and once she gets out of this, pray that she looks like her mother cause I meant what I said about you being an ugly motherfucker." _

Two days later, Clay held the still tiny, but lively pink bundle in the crock of his arm. Her face was the same shade as her bright pink blanket and her eyes were wide open as if she was assessing her surroundings. She was soft, real fidgety and warm to the touch. Her warmth was contagious as Clay found it spreading over him. Out of fear that she would pee on him the way she had Piney and JT, a small part of him was tempted to hand her back to her mother. But a larger part of him didn't want to hand her back at all. He had never held a baby before, never really wanted to either but he had to admit it was a good feeling.

"_She's a sweet little thing"_ Lenny nearly cooed in a voice that didn't quite sound like his own. Clay nodded in agreement.

"_You figure out a name yet?" _

"_Yeah." _

"_Well, don't keep me in suspense here." _

A wide grin stretched the Sergeant's scarred up face. _"Clara Lenette."_

As the years passed, save for the six year sabbatical he spent in the clink, Clay watched with pride as the tiny, sickly baby girl that was named after him grow into a beautiful, strong woman. She weathered every storm in her life with strength and grace that both shocked the shit out of and impressed the hell out of everyone around her. Well, except for him. He'd always known that she would have a place on the short list of women he respected.

**~(&)~**

As she made her way up the short, cracked walkway that led to Clay's front door she noted that it was already open. He stood straight against the frame looking healthier than she had seen him since his accident, but still a shadow tough-as-nails, resolute soldier she'd known her whole life. She couldn't stop herself from sighing sadly as she noticed that his toothy smile didn't reach his bright blue eyes.

"Hey sweetheart" he called just before she reached the door.

"Hey." Once he was in arm's distance, she reached for him.

Neither of them had ever been terribly affectionate, normally greeting one another with a standard one armed hug or quick kiss on the cheek. But seeing his worn down state, Lena found herself wanting to hold onto her surrogate father. At the same time, she knew she couldn't get emotional and bleed all over him. Not now.

She was thankful that he met her halfway, gathering her into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She was very careful as to not disturb his oxygen tubes or squeeze him too tight, but she couldn't help resting her cheek against the butter soft leather and cotton covered chest. The familiarity brought her back to all the hard times he'd held her through. From every single death to her early, terrifying days of single parenthood Clay had always been her number one supporter, the first person she called in a crisis.

_And now he needs you_, she reminded herself sternly. _So stop being a baby and be there!_

"I'm impressed" she commented as she placed her two bags on the counter. She removed her jean jacket and slung it around one of the backs of the kitchen table chairs. "Your place is much cleaner than it was the last time."

"I think it might have _something_ to do with the very diplomatic conversation you had with Juice" he teased, making reference to her losing her cool over the filth in Clay's house. She had intended to reserve her anger for the prospect responsible, but when the Puerto Rican patch holder jumped to V-lin's defense she decided to give it to him too. "I swear, you chewed his ass so hard and for so long that he still can't sit down comfortably."

"Well he's awfully pretty for a biker _and _he's done time so I'm sure he's used to rough ass play" she cracked, wondering if she was taking the jokes too far. Normally, she wouldn't speak of a patched member that way in front of another. But they weren't at the clubhouse. Juice was her friend and she'd always teased him good naturedly. Besides when push came to shove, she always had his back no matter how he badly fucked up.

Clay laughed. "You've got no idea, darlin."

"And considering that it's almost time for lunch" she pointed to the recyclable green bag full of ingredients. "I really don't' want to." Off Clay's open mouth and raised eyebrows, she added, "I'd rather wait till May to have it. And by May I mean, May the day never come."

**~(&)~**

From his perch at the table, Clay watched Lena work in the kitchen. She made quick work of putting away the leftovers and starting lunch, all while making her annoyance with his lack of domestic organization known. She was her usual chatty self, but he could tell she was purposely keeping the conversation light. Nothing about Gemma or the club. She stuck to topics like current goings on with Lauren and her company, his medications, and questions about noises her cage was making.

"You didn't have to go through all this trouble" he reiterated his earlier statement as she placed plate of sautéed garlic shrimp over angel hair pasta in front of him before setting down with her own. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but I would've been satisfied with leftovers."

She shrugged as she twirled a bit of pasta around her fork. "You eat enough leftovers all week long, I figured something fresh would be a nice change. Besides, La hates seafood and…"

"Stop it."

Her fork stopped nearly midway between her plate and her agape mouth.

"Close it" he ordered her gently. "Pick your jaw up off the floor. You know me well enough to know that I'm going to call you out before you start that jibber jabber nonsense. I hate that."

"Well." She placed her fork down and crossed her arms. "_You know me_ well enough to know that while I can tear up the floor, I'm downright clumsy when it comes to dancing around topics."

Lena was inarguably the most candid woman he'd ever known. He often teased her about her lack of a filter. Along with being the most candid, she was the least manipulative. She never twisted the truth to fit her wants and in her younger years, she was pragmatic to a fault. You'd never know it looking at her. With shiny blonde hair and a youthful face, she looked sort of angelic. Those who knew her were aware of the horns stapled to her halo.

Pushing his plate aside, he crossed his arms. "I know you've been taking a bit of beating on my account. And while I appreciate the hell out of your loyalty that stops now." She opened her mouth, but he put a hand up to silence her. "I want to explain a few things to you, uninterrupted."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Clay" she piped in softly. "You've always been in my corner, no matter what I've done and I'm in yours. Anything else is not my business."

Softening marginally, he felt a surge of pride, immediately followed up by guilt. He unfolded his arms, resting them on the table. "I've always tried to guide you, be the kind of dad that Lenny would've been."

It was her turn to scoff. Undaunted by her teenage behavior, he continued. "Like Lenny, I'm not a complicated man. I think that's why your Old Man and I understood each other so well. Unlike JT and Piney, we're not feelers. We're not complicated. We're thinkers. List makers. Problem solvers. 'Nam affected all of us, it's how this club came about. Over the years, some of us lost that soldier's outlook. But I never did."

Lena nodded for him to continue. He was tempted to tell her everything. He had so much to atone for, so much to explain. And of all the people he owed an explanation to, she was at the top of that list. But then again, he couldn't lose her. Not now. And if she knew about Piney, she might not stick by his side. Even her loyalty had contingencies and considering her closeness to both Winston men, she might not be able to stomach the fact that one of the men who raised her murdered the other. It wasn't a risk he was willing to take at the moment.

"I'm a solider, Lena, plain and simple" he raised his sore, shaky hands. "I knew I didn't have that much time at the head of the table. I needed an exit plan, so I went on a mission." He'd always told her just enough to keep her safe. There was never a need to burden her with club business. After Zeke's death, she chose to lead a civilian's life. He wouldn't place unnecessary baggage at her feet, but he needed her to understand. "I didn't care who I hurt. It was about my future, Gem's future. I got greedy. I was blind to the way I was hurting others most of the time and when I wasn't, I just didn't care."

Her eyes were shiny, but she wasn't crying. She was a tough broad. Resilient.

"Well" she said, after a long painful moment. "What can I say, Clay?"

"I'm not sure there is anything you can say" he admitted.

She reached out, wrapping her little fingers around his pointer finger like she used to do when she was small. "You own what you did, you're sorry for the hurt you've caused. That takes character. You haven't done anything to me or my child so I can't hold anything you've done against you."

_Well if only it was that easy with everyone_, he thought, _but I have a feeling this was just too easy. _


End file.
